Get Away D:!
by Petenshiidaa
Summary: Atobe just wanted to shop, that's all he wanted... Atobe x Sakaki Tarou, sort of. Poor guy. It was just a drabble so, have fun.


**Disclaimer**: I do not ooowwnnn PoT. 

**Pairing**: Atobe Keigo / Sakaki Tarou

**Prompt**: Prom Shopping.

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It had been just a normal afternoon for Atobe Keigo, and it just so happened to be the week of, well, Middle school prom. He had to find something to wear that was nearly as elegant, stylish, and damn well beautiful as he was. He was Ore-sama, and would settle for nothing but the best. Sitting in his limo, Atobe shuffled through his alligator-skin wallet for the necessary things: credit card, identification, bank notes, and his father's business card. Noting that each of these things were present, he leaned back into the leather seats with a proud grin, closing his eyes gently to run his index and middle finger under his eyes and down his cheeks.

"Atobe-sama, we've arrived."

His chauffeur called out gently to the lightly slumbering prince. Atobe shot up gently with a quirked brow, his driver opening the door and bowing whilst the leather-clad Atobe Keigo stepped from his stretch limo with a pair of Giorgio Armani sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose. Stepping out to walk forth through automatic doors, the rich bitch prince stalked off towards the Men's Store; it was a place he'd visited with his tensai a few times prior to now, and new they had a selection of tuxedos made by fine italian companies.His first stop was to the counter where he'd suddenly parted his lips, sliding the frames down with two fingers at the edge of the lenses.

"Where do you keep your Firado Uomo Men's suits at?"

Ore-sama asked in a low, deep, somewhat sophisticated tone. Following one finely dressed male to the back of the store, he'd bowed his head and the worker did the same, before returning forward to his post at the front. He would later give his measurements and find the correct suit to fit his needs. One in particular caught his eye-- A Black, Italian Virgin wool suit with a matching hand-made tie with a pricetag that any normal citizen would cringe at.

"Oh. Atobe. I didn't know you shopped here too."

A voice rang out, and the other seemed disinterested as he continued to eye the suit, until he finally turned to let a small squeak slip through his lips. Widened eyes made the one called Ore-sama look...quite frightened. He truly was.

"...You didn't show up for dance lessons today."

Sakaki-sensei scolded in his low voice, continued to stare at his student with somewhat dissappointment. Everyone in Hyoutei's regulars new damn well that showing up for anything involving private practice with Sakaki-sensei could be considered child abuse and/or molestation. We learned that when Hiyoshi was forced into the corner and retreated to that one option...and no one heard from him for weeks.

"Well, uh, I, err, Ore-sama had not been feeling well, and is very busy with preparations for prom and--"

Spurring off whatever excuses he could use, the other quickly signaled a worker over and he picked from the rack one of the many mass-productions of that specific suit. Running off the measurements he knew, the worker looked puzzled and grasped a measuring tape from the wall.

"Atobe-sama, would you please step over here?"

Everyone in Tokyo knew who Atobe was, so when the worker called his name, he was not even phazed but rather, relieved that he could get away from his sensei whom continued to stare as he'd gotten his measurements done.

"Will I have the suit by tonight? It is best made urgent."

Keigo added in a somewhat arrogant tone. Halfway through that statement though, it turned to a nervous voice when Sakaki decided to slide himself right to the side of Atobe, and placing a hand on Ore-sama's shoulder.

"Sakaki-sensei...Why is your hand on my shoulder..."

He cringed, looking off to the side with chills running up his spine.

"Dance lessons. Tonight."

Sakaki ordered with his empowering tone, and the worker began to stir himself to the counter, totalling up the cost of the suit for the young millionaire. Atobe went to the counter, being followed by the sensei once more. He reaaaallly didn't want to go to dance lessons. No one would. Handing his credit card to the cashier, he recieved the suit and a sudden utter of 'Itteyoshi' from his sensei, and he was forced back into his own limousine with the sensei following in...


End file.
